


Hate/Love/Hunger/Lust

by winterfirehair



Series: Kinktober 2018 [8]
Category: Until Dawn (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Blood and Gore, Broken Bones, Cannibalism, Character Death, Gore, Kinktober 2018, M/M, Post-Canon, Torture, Wendigo Josh Washington
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-08
Updated: 2018-10-08
Packaged: 2019-07-28 08:15:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16237679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winterfirehair/pseuds/winterfirehair
Summary: It's like his best friend morphed together with the monster haunting him in his dreams and crawled out of the dreamscape to terrorize him even with his eyes open.





	Hate/Love/Hunger/Lust

**Author's Note:**

> Day Eight: Blood / Gore

Chris lets out some heavy curses that would've had a sailor turn green with envy when he burns his fingers on his lighter for what feels like the hundreth time. Dropping the hot piece of metal to the ground, he's once again engulfed by darkness, and instantly, fear begins to creep in his veins. Darkness is bad, very bad. He needs fire, and he needs a bigger fire than this pathetic little flame his lighter is able to produce.

Getting down on his knees he feels around for the tool, knowing that it's his best chance to survive after all. Without fire he's helpless. He'll be slaughtered in the dark, and he hates the dark. That's probably the worst of it all. It's not that he'll die alone, in a mine deep below the ground, lost, without anyone knowing that he's here. It's not that he'll never be found - after all, he knows what will happen to his body. It's not even that he knows that his death will be painful. It's that he's going to die in the dark.

His fingers brush against metal that has turned ice cold again and he almost shouts out loud in relief. Thankfully, he's able to bite down on his tongue before any sound can leave his cracked lips.

It takes him a few tries to make a flame appear from the lighter, and it's only a small light. A small light that dies quickly, because Chris drops the tool once again with a choked cry of terror before pain explodes in his head and he's knocked out cold.

 

When Chris regains his conciousness, he can't hold back a whimper. His body hurts even more than it did before he was knocked out, which is pretty impressive considering his fall down into the mines. He was already in pain then, but that seems like a simple scratch now compared to the pain running wild in his body in this very moment.

He tries to sit up, but the movement makes pain shoot up his spine. For a short moment, he sees stars, and he's sure he's going to vomit, but the pain minimizes to a dull throbbing in his legs again once he stays still, and after a few moments he's able to breathe again.

Touching his face he notices that he's lost his glasses, and that he's bleeding from a wound on his head. The blood is warm and sticky on his fingers, and he reaches down to wipe them off on his jeans, but when he touches his thigh, the pain explodes and he can't help but shout. This time, he sits up despite the fact that it hurts like a bitch, but as soon as he takes a look at his lower body in the dim light, he wishes that he didn't.

His legs are in a unnatural position, grotesquely bend where they shouldn't be able to bend. His jeans are partially soaked with blood where his broken bones have pierced his flesh and skin, bloody white sticking out of the ripped fabric.

It's so unreal that he doesn't even feel sick. He just stares at his legs, wondering if they will ever carry his weight again or if that's it and he's going to need a wheelchair from now on. And then he remembers that his phone didn't survive the fall down into the mines. He can't get help here, and there's no way for him to get out of the mines like this, not being able to walk.

"First, the Wendigo, he'll render you immobile."

The words that come out of his mouth in a whisper aren't his own, but that's not why his body suddenly feels so cold. It's not the shock of finding out that his legs are probably broken beyond repair and that he'll most likely loose them both if he gets out of these mines either.

"And then he keeps you alive and aware..."

His voice breaks, and he can feel how his eyes start to fill with tears. The awareness slowly creeps into his veins, eating away all hope that was left. He's not going to get out of these mines. At this point, he's only a living food stash. The only thing he can pray for now is that his body will give in quickly and that his death will come fast.

Last time he barely made it out of this hell alive. It should've been his warning. No sane person would've ever set a foot on this mountain again, not after all that has happened, all the bloodshed, but of course he had to be that one idiot who looses his friend up here. They never found Josh, never recovered his body, and no matter how much time passed, he couldn't forget it. That little spark of hope didn't want to die, that little spark that told him that Josh was somewhere on that mountain, alive, hiding, waiting for rescue. And by listening to that damn spark he has only dug his own grave. He hasn't even found Josh. All of this is and was pointless.

With his tears streaming down his dirty cheeks, Chris shivers with every single noise around him. Every single one could be one of the beasts coming to feast on him. And funnily enough, the longer he just sits there, the more he wishes for it to finally happen. He just wants it all to be over, all the pain, both physical and mental.

Was Josh in his position after the Wendigo got him? Did he too wait for his end somewhere in the mines, bleeding, rendered immobile like him? The thought makes Chris' chest ache. No matter what Joshua did to them all, no matter how fucked up his games were, they were only games after all. He wasn't responsible for everything else that happened and he certainly didn't want anyone to get hurt. Or killed. They were best friends, and while Josh let them down indeed, Chris let him down too. Josh's death by the claws of these monsters is his fault. He killed his best friend.

Chris rubs his eyes, the tears stinging slightly, when the atmosphere around him suddenly shifts. His breath hitches, because there's a presence right in front of him and he's absolutely certain that in just a second he'll feel the creature slice open his throat so that he'll either drown in his own blood or bleed to death while desperately trying to stop the flow with his fingers. Maybe it'll just decapitate him, like it did with the Stranger, which is oddly desirable considering the possible other fates he's facing.

But nothing happens, and when Chris opens his eyes after a while, he's staring at what seems like a nightmarish mirage.

It's Josh, no doubt. But at the same time, it isn't Josh. It's like his best friend morphed together with the monster haunting him in his dreams and crawled out of the dreamscape to terrorize him even with his eyes open. Chris wants to scream, but not a single sound leaves his throat.

Josh's skin is ashen underneath caked dirt and blood. His hair is greasy where it hasn't fallen out, and his once beautifully dark eyes are covered by a milky layer like he's gone blind. And if that wasn't horrific enough, the way his mouth is mutilated will cause Chris nightmares for the rest of his life. If he's ever going to sleep again. Josh's lips are glistening with fresh blood constantly dripping from where they are ripped open by the deformation of the teen's jaw. Sharp, crooked teeth cut his lips open even more, and every single wound looks like it's far beyond sore already.

His once good-looking best friend has become a hideous beast.

Chris wants to move, wants to embrace his friend and tell him that everything is going to be alright, but he stays completely still. Josh seems to look right through him, and that probably means that his eyes already work like those of a Wendigo. As long as Chris doesn't move a single muscle, he's invisible to Josh. It pains him to think of his best friend like one of those monsters, but no matter how much he wishes that this isn't real, that he's still unconcious or already dead, or maybe even back home, things are the way they are. Josh is on his way to become one of them, a monster feasting on human flesh.

He can't help but shriek like a banshee when Josh suddenly shoots forward and wraps his bony fingers around his throat, his long and sharp nails threatening to slice his tender skin open. A growl comes from the almost-Wendigo, and Chris closes his eyes. He's glad that it's Josh who will kill him, but knowing that he's trapped on this mountain, forced to live off human flesh - it's such a terrible fate and he kinda feels worse about it than he does about his own death.

"I'm sorry. I should've saved you."

He doesn't know if Josh is still in there, if he can still understand, but if he is, he wants him to know. And for a moment, he thinks there is some kind of reaction, some kind of recognition in Josh's milky eyes. Then it's gone, and searing heat spreads from his abdomen through his whole body.

Chris doesn't even understand at first, not even when Josh lifts his free hand which is covered in dark, steaming blood. He doesn't understand when he coughs and blood runs down his chin, the metallic taste foreign in his mouth. He doesn't even understand when Josh lets go of his throat to get both of his hands on the bloody mess in front of him.

Josh, on the other hand, keeps going by instinct. He can smell the blood, he can hear the heart of his victim beat quickly. The hunger is tearing him apart and everything inside him just screams to rip the body in front of him open, to feed on its blood and tender meat. Something inside him recognizes this human, but that part of him is weak and easy to ignore. And the smell is just too wonderful to stop.

The pain, the unbearable pain Chris is going trough, finally lessens. There's a weird sensation in his abdomen, like the burning feeling intensifying to the point of no pain anymore. He looks up at Josh, the monster he has become, and he's not even shocked to see him lick his hands that are sticky with Chris' blood. He's not surprised either when he looks down on himself, finding that the hot feeling in his stomach is nothing else but a huge slash across his stomach.

He's not afraid anymore. He should be, he's bleeding out and his former best friend has become a monster that is feasting on him, but there's nothing he feels but regret. Tears still run down his face, and he gasps at the feeling of Josh tearing and ripping his innards to shreds, but his body is shutting down and he's leaving it as it does, more and more.

Chris' bloodied lips form a smile before his eyes roll up in his head, his body cramping, fighting against the inevitable death. Josh growls, holding it down, tearing the gash in Chris' abdomen open wider to have better access to his still warm innards, the bloody mush a true feast for the creature he has become.

And while the young Wendigo stuffs itself with the shredded remains of liver, lungs, heart and other organs once belonging to the deceased blond, the teen inside its mind wails and screams, cursing the beast he has become.


End file.
